


Happy Birthday, Papa Bond

by therunawaypen



Series: 00Q Tumblr Prompt Fills [14]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Birthday, Children, F/M, Family, Grandchildren, Growing Old Together, M/M, Retirement, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therunawaypen/pseuds/therunawaypen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond has managed to live through several missions and assignments. But how did he manage to survive parenthood long enough to reach his 60th birthday?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Papa Bond

**Author's Note:**

> For anon on Tumblr:
> 
> "Bond celebrates his 60th birthday with his children and realizes how far he's come."

They say growing old isn’t for everyone; that there are just some people who were meant to go out in a blaze of glory while they were young and wild.

These people were probably thinking of 00 agents. They so often got themselves killed in the line of duty that when James Bond, 007, approached M’s desk with the paperwork for his retirement, the head of MI6 didn’t know what to do.

Of course, James didn’t _really_ retire. Sure, the 007 label was no longer his (in an odd twist of fate, it had been passed to his daughter Monique), but he still helped MI6 when he could. After all, what else _could_ he do?

As the years passed, James’s life became less about MI6 and more about the children he was raising at home with his husband. Five beautiful, wonderful children…

In his darker moments, James would wonder how his life would have been if he had never met Q, if they had never married, if they had never had children. It would be short, he realized, because he would have gotten himself killed. Without his family, he would have had no incentive to return home unharmed.

His family was his reason to live.

Some of the 00 agents teased him at his retirement, asking him how he would handle being a domestic househusband. When James thought of all the breakfasts he made (or bought, when eating out struck their fancy) to share with his children, the hours he spent helping them with homework or playing in the backyard, he knew he would be just fine.

Eve asked him how he would handle being the stay at home dad while Q continued to work. When he thought of waking up beside his husband, watching as the occasional wrinkle made a home on his beautiful face and his dark curls turn salt and pepper; when he thought of being home when Q returned from work, helping him relax and unwind from the pressures of the world, he realized he looked forward to it.

M questioned him on if he would handle being able to grow old in quiet, without adventure. When he thought about the first time he had donned a pair of reading glasses, when he first saw his blonde hair turning grey, when wrinkles started appearing on his face, he was annoyed. But at the same time, he watched as his sons became men, his daughters become women, each strong in their own way.

And while the troubles of age were annoying, he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

“Something’s got you distracted.”

James blinked, looking at his husband from over their dinner. Q was smiling softly, laughter lines puckering around his eyes, “Is something on your mind?” he asked.

Shaking his head, James smiled, “I suppose I was just thinking of our life, and all that’s happened.”

Q was grinning now, taking a sip of his red wine, “Getting nostalgic in your old age, love?”

“Hey now,” James shook his head, cutting his filet mignon, “No teasing the birthday boy.”

They paused, then laughed at the notion. Q would always tease him, regardless of the day, and James loved that about his husband. After all these years, he still loved Q with the same passion he had when they first got together.

In all honesty, James could think of no better way to spend his birthday than with his husband. They had made a night at the opera to indulge their guilty pleasure, followed by a wonderful dinner for two. No doubt Q had something planned for when they returned to the house, but James would leave that up to his husband.

Q had even insisted on driving for the evening (“You get handsy when you drive!”), surprising him with every stop on their evening out. And as Q pulled up to their house, James was ready to relax with his husband.

Taking Q’s hand, James pressed a kiss to his husband’s cheek, “Thank you.” He murmured, “This has been a truly wonderful night.”

“It’s not over yet, darling.” Q teased, kissing James slowly before moving to open the front door. James chuckled as his husband flicked on the indoor lights.

“ _SURPRISE!_ ”

James jumped at the sudden noise, his hand flinching in the direction of where he kept his gun (some habits never _did_ die) before he realized there were no intruders in the house, just his family and friends.

“Spooked you, didn’t we Papa?” His oldest, Monique smiled knowingly as she came in for a hug.

James could see the outline of her own gun under her jacket and chuckled. “If I were ten years younger, you all might have been dead.” He teased, holding his daughter close. Behind her, he could see Monique’s husband tending the couple’s twins, smiling at them contently.

James’s own twins were quick to replace Monique in James’s arms. “Happy Birthday Papa—“

“—Congrats on getting old!”

Years of raising his twins taught James to know which twin was which (in this instance, it had been Jonathan to speak first, then Gregory), and he gave both of them a good hair-ruffling for good measure. The more he saw the twins, the more he saw Q in them, and it made his heart swell with pride.

“Don’t you two hog Papa all night.” A soft voice called behind the twins.

“Of course not.” Greg chuckled.

Jonathan smiled, “Come on, Andy. Get your hug in!”

If someone had told James Bond 20 years ago that he would have a child as gentle as his youngest son Andrew, he wouldn’t have believed them. James was a killer, and he thought any child with his genetics would be the same.

But there was Andrew, the spitting image of James, but with a constant smile on his face, exuding peace while James had exuded war. Andrew had (luckily) inherited some of Q’s brilliance, and had entered MI6’s service, but not as an agent, or a technical genius, weapons maker or even an analyst. No, he had become a counselor.

The twins had teased him for becoming a “shrink,” but Andrew had shrugged it off, saying that some of the wounds agents returned with weren’t physical.

James couldn’t have agreed more. Or have been more proud of his son.

In the middle of his hug with Andrew, another body hugged him from the side, “You’re so old, Papa!”

James snorted, “If I’m old, Charlie, what does that make you?”

Charmain stuck out her tongue teasingly, “I’ll always be your baby.”

 _Damn right she would be_ , James thought, kissing the top of his youngest’s head. Charmain was the only one that hadn’t _quite_ made her entrance into the professional world yet, but it was coming soon. And it would be spectacular.

She was a Bond, of course it would be.

As James looked over the children’s (they would always be children to him) faces, and to the spouses that stood by them (or the boyfriend, in Charmain’s case, though James was suspecting a serious conversation with Jeremy in the near future), and even some people from MI6 that had come to celebrate with him, he couldn’t help but smile.

The banner over their heads (“Happy 60th!”) should have been an annoying reminder of his old age, but to James, it was a reminder of how far he had come, and how much more he had to look forward to.


End file.
